This war is cold and silent Our love has turned to violence You've got three years to live for something You've got three years to die for something
message goes to amateurs and pros alike We're the MC's that cold be doggin the mic You may be good but there's no one better We rock you so cold, you
turn 'em into Ivan Koloff Why do the Gods make MC's study from Thirty five, and fifty year, then try to become Under the study with the sword above
're gonna tell that the war is won and what's done is done, an all-good _Son of a Bush_ I've been there before, "got a letter from government" Slid underneath
Libor KrA¬vA k / Lyrics by Petr VyslouzA¬l] Mighty empires sowing disease of war Signs of definace will burn at the stake World in the fire bleeding from
how on the block niggaz will kill you for cash But never raise the gun and cry out, "Freedom at last" The cold war is over but the world is still gettin' colder
a blood on blood war Blood on blood war, take your mind on tour Stand tall like the Berlin Wall Automatic darts are pulled Stand for, never ignore the blood on blood war
towers up in the blue sky Above the clouds, obscure the scarred earth Discuss manoeuvres, moves for more death Arms make profit from the crushed head
up in the blue sky, Above the clouds, obscure the scarred earth, Discuss manoeuvres, moves for more death, Arms make profit from the crushed head, Build
with power The hammer of battle pound hard from above All doomed and damned in death's hour Armies' formations winged in death's sky Storming from the
Goddess of the underworld Cold queen of lost beauty Gazed upon Earth's battleground At mankind's misery With her sadness, came love's death As violence
's what you've got. Freedom from choice. It's what you want. Freedom from choice It's what you want. Freedom from choice. "Let's Have A War" There
acceleration, no mercy or brakes applied I see dead stars collide, in her cold unflinching power slide Comets tear the skies, gushing from a shattered
, the greater herald war I am thirst, spearheaded hunger Sacrament and pain Nails raked in savagery When the cruel Countessa came Exalt! The Queen of death
from grace Too awful to taste for the led and the chaste Those whose long fetters are addressed to all saints Free shining souls torn from God's given
tralee. On the far fields of india, mid war's bloody thunder, Her voice was a solace and comfort to me, But the cold hand of death has now torn us
